


It's Over Before it Begins

by idolhands



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: Crack, Enemies to Friends, Please Don't Take This Seriously, botched seduction attempt, friends - Freeform, mostly just talking, underappreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 21:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8463784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idolhands/pseuds/idolhands
Summary: Just a small crack fic around 2x09 when George asked Tankard to sleep with Demelza and he just looked terrified, bless him. Mostly cannon but Sir Hugh never shows up at Demelza’s door, begins right after McNeil has left. I loved this scene so much, I had to write something.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'U+Ur' Hand by P!nk because I though tit suited this part of the episode so well and if I could make MVs I would make one, however, this fic will have to do. Also, I can’t be the only one who feels that Tankard doesn’t get nearly enough attention in the fandom, there don't seem to be any fics about him at all.

Tankard held up the candle in one hand and double checked that he was at the right room, there was no need for this to be more embarrassing than it had to be. He took a large breath in and tried to stop his hands shaking, the candle was sending his shadow flickering around the walls like some sort of demonic cult huddling around to spectate over his misery.

He could do this, he had to, George was depending on him. Tankard had no desire to risk his ire and return to their adjoining rooms to be faced with a look of anger or, far worse, disappointment. All he had to do was slip in, sleep with Poldark’s wife and then leave – simple. The only problem was, he wasn’t sure if he could do it. Firstly, she was undoubtedly beautiful but he was not attracted to her in the slightest, secondly, he had it on good authority that the aforementioned women had a tendency to react violently when provoked. Then again, so did George.

One final breath in, and he knocked on the door, timidly at first and then harder.

***

Inside, Demelza paused, if that was Captain McNeil again, so help her God she would kill him where he stood. Standing up, she flung open the door, prepared to violently lambast him...and paused as she came face to George Warleggan’s friend. What was him name? Mr Tankard, that was it, she didn’t think she’d been provided with a first name.

“Evening, Sir, can I help you with something?”she asked.

“Perhaps you can, Madam. May I come in?” he tried for a charming smile, it must have worked at least slightly as she stepped away from the door, that or he looked so completely un-threatening in any way that she’d decided to take pity on him.

“O’ course. You’ll have to hurry though, it’s late and I wish to sleep,” whilst she turned her back to fill two glasses with wine, he composed himself and stepped closer to her so that when she turned back around he barely a hair’s breadth from her and she almost spilled the glass which she’d held out for him.

“Sir, I’m not sure it is you mean but...” Demelza tried her hardest to contain her sigh, twice in one night? This was utterly ridiculous; couldn’t a woman go to a ball alone anymore?

“Come now, Mrs Poldark, you must be aware that you are the most beautiful woman in this house,” he stepped forwards so that she was forced to step back against the dresser, downing the glass in one hand when she turned her back.

“You flatter me sir,” Demelza could hear her stays creaking as she leaned backwards across the dresser in an attempt to put some distance between the two of them.

“Truly, I do not. Such clear, pale skin, a wonderful figure, the incredible, rich colour of you curled locks,” he held out a finger and ran it through said locks, he had to admit that they were just as soft as they looked. Somehow, she managed to extricate herself from his clutches and flip them over so that he was the one pushed up against the desk whilst she was free to move away.

Briefly, she paused to consider what action to take next. She could scream, someone would come running to her aid and no doubt it would be a harsh blow to George if his henchman was arrested. Or perhaps she should just take care of him herself, if one blow had been enough to fell Ross and give him a bruised eye; it just might kill Tankard who was, admittedly, of a much slimmer and smaller build. Thirdly, she could always pursue this encounter to see how far it went; true she had just rejected McNeil but he had been decidedly too forceful whereas the man in front of her didn’t look capable of hurting anyone. After all, there was nothing to say that she actually had to sleep with Warleggan’s man, perhaps just a kiss or two would suffice to incite Ross’ jealousy and wake him up to just how much he had to lose.

She hadn’t quite decided what action to take when he apparently decided to try his chances and leaned forwards to kiss her. She closed her eyes and waited for a few seconds before she suddenly felt him sag against the dresser.

“My apologies, Madam, but I simply cannot...” he didn’t even bother to finish his sentence but busied himself with moving her out of the way and fleeing to the door.

“Wait, what the hell do you mean?” she called after him, more confused than disappointed

He turned back gingerly, a light blush gracing his cheeks, “That is to say, Madam, I do not mean it as a personal slight, you are truly one of the most beautiful women here, but I do not feel at all comfortable with,” he motioned between the two of them, “this.”

“But you came here to me.”

“And I have now changed my mind,” he seemed to be trying his best to escape as quickly as possible.

“Well, you don’t have to go just yet,” she replied, suddenly taking pity on the strange man, “To be honest, I don’t feel like sleepin’ just yet and I’d welcome the company.”

“Are you quite sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he’d started wringing his hands together now which didn’t exactly add to any kind of authoritative demeanour.

“I’m sure,” she graced him with a reassuring smile, “Sit down, I’ll pour some more wine.”

He perched on the edge of the seat as if he was preparing to flee at any given moment; Demelza returned, passed him his glass and settled into the other chair, “So, George Warleggan. How did you two meet?”

“He consulted me about some legal advice some years ago, he returns to me every so often when the need arises.”

“And the need has arisen recently?” she asked, curious. It wasn’t as if she was actively trying to gather information to use against George but every little helped, “I wasn’t aware that he had any legal trouble at the moment.”

“Well, I also help to safeguard some of his investments of which he has made many over recent months.” He was aware that he was straying into dangerous territory but he couldn’t find a way out.

“Such as my husband’s mine,” now Tankard was honestly scared, the delicate glare pointing his way proved just why even George was terrified of this woman, not that he’d ever admit to it.

“Yes, Madam, Mr Warleggan’s seems to prefer to be close to your husband’s endeavours.”

“And why is that, do you suppose.”

“I hear that they went to school together, I suppose that they share some past which makes them close.”

“I believe that,” Demelza replied wryly, “Sometimes I think my husband should have dispensed with Elizabeth and I and married George instead.” The noise which Tankard made was so strange that it took her a moment to realise that he was laughing.

“Well, I suppose that their loathing for one another could be described as some sort of strange attraction in the end, without each other they would doubtlessly be bored senseless.”

Now it was Demelza’s turn to laugh, “You are surprisingly funny, Mr Tankard. I am beginning to be glad that you called by.”

“As am I,” he agreed.

“Although I am curious as to why you called in the first place as you seem to have a lack of interest in your obvious intention.” She leaned forwards in her seat, had it been a little too much port at dinner or was something else afoot.

“Ah, well, you see,” he paused for a moment, internally warring over whether or not to confess his original motives It was clearly against his, and George’s, best intentions however the alcohol he had previously consumed, as well as the glass he was currently drinking, had other ideas, “You see, George believed that it might be...beneficial for you and I to...” he tailed off, not quite sure if it was safe to continue.

Demelza, however, was more amused than irritated, “Hmm, not quite what I expected you to say but I am intrigued. I have to say, it was most definitely one of the more pleasant plots which George has intended to move against me for quite some time.” Tankard had the good grace to blush, “However, I’ll warn you, if you try the same plan against my husband I doubt that you’ll have the same amount of success. Does George often ask you to perform such..tasks?”

“Thankfully, no. As I said, I was brought here to assist him legally. However, recently he seems to be treating me more and more like a dogsbody,” he exploded. Demelza sat and listened patiently, she felt like this had been building up for quite some time, “I’m an attorney, not a wedding planner or a messenger or a thug, or a whore for that matter!”

“Of course not,” she nodded supportively, topping up his glass.

“I mean, I went to University for God’s sake, I’m a professional!” he was building up to a full scale rant now

“It must be hard, being used for such menial tasks.”

“It is, and you know what, he never thanks me, not once. He just threatens me if things go wrong and says nothing when I almost put my life as risk to do as he says. I just want him to notice me, just once,” he sank back into his seat, morose.

“Don’t tell me about noticing, my own husband hasn’t looked at me in months,” Demelza complained back, she was quite enjoying this impromptu support group.

“But how could he!” Tankard sounded outraged for her, “You’re beautiful and clever and terrifying, what more could he want in a wife?”

“Well, apparently, Elizabeth Poldark. I mean, I know he was her first love an all but he chose me, he should have the good grace to stick to it.” The wine was beginning to go to her head but she didn’t mind anymore.

“And so he should. I imagine George’s news was quite the shock to him, then.”

Demelza suddenly went quiet, “I suppose it was. That’s the reason I’m here, truth be told. I shouldn’t be telling you this, you being Warleggan’s man and all, but the night that he received word he went over to Trenwith and...” she gulped more wine before continuing, “He was out until morning. It seems doubtless that they...were involved.”

“No!” Tankard’s outraged gasp was exactly what she’d needed to hear for days, “How could he!”

“Exactly. Not only that but he had the nerve to come back to me and say that he had no choice and that I had to forgive him!” The memory of that night had been bitterly painful but her recollection of her punch sweetened it marginally.

“The swine!”

“I should have married someone else,” she confessed, “Like Doctor Enys, he always seems so kind and faithful. You should see the way he tends to his patients.”

“Yes, I’ve seen him around the town once or twice,” Tankard remembered, “Very intellectual man, handsome, fantastic hair.”

“It is isn’t it? I wonder how he keeps it like that?”

“Probably pomade of some kind?”

“Or maybe the wind whips it into a perfect coiffure as he rides along the moors to the aid of those in need,” Demelza giggled. She’d been filling up both glasses liberally so that the decanter was more than half empty by now and all of that was on top of all the alcohol consumed with food earlier. As a result, they were both decidedly quite drunk and giggly at this point.

“What about his previous beloved, Lay Caroline, such a lovely lady,” Tankard noted

“She is very beautiful isn’t she,” Demelza agreed, “And clever, like there’s quite a lot of intelligence simmering beneath the dog smothered facade. I suppose I would have like to marry her as well, she could be a lot of fun.”

“What about her ex-betrothed, Unwin,” Tankard chuckled, “The way he used to flounce into a room, all frock coat tails and wealth.”

Demelza was reduced to tears almost buy the memory of the foppish young man and his misinformed yet no less enthusiastic attempts to unsuccessfully woo Caroline.

In the end, they managed to while away another few hours chattering idly about the people and gossip in and around Cornwall until Demelza yawned wide, “My apologies, I seep to be rather tired all of a sudden.”

“No, no, Madam,” Tankard placed his glass on the side table and stood, “I’ve kept you long enough.”

Demelza stood and pulled him into a sudden hug, “After all that, I’m glad you dropped by, this has been fun.”

“It has, hasn’t it.”

“And you needn’t think that it has to stop, feel free to stop by at Nampara for tea whenever you like.”

“And you may call upon George’s house if you so wish and he is out.”

“Wouldn’t he mind you making me his precious expensive tea?” Demelza laughed.

“He shouldn’t do, I’m the one who has to bloody make it!” With one last roll of his eyes, Tankard slipped out of the door, closed it behind him and made his way to the East Wing.

George was sat up in bed when he returned, holding a book loosely in one hand, “Is it done?” he grinned.

“No, actually,” Tankard turned to the door and began shucking off his coat.

“What! But I told you to...what have you been doing all this time?” George spluttered.

“Chatting, to Mistress Demelza. She really is a very intelligent and funny woman; you should give her more credit,” Tankard admonished him, “Regardless, she is a friend now and I can rely on her for information.”

George pricked up his ears and sat a little straighter, “She told you something interesting, then?”

“Yes, she did,” Tankard strolled over to the door to his room, opened it and let it shut behind him. Ha, let George be the one left out of the loop and having to beg for information for once.

***

When Demelza left the next day, Tankard and George were waiting by the door, Tankard waving her off and George stewing in the corner. Hmmm, maybe they would both manage to gain a little more attention from now on.


End file.
